


Function

by MemoriesofMiltia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Originally a Zine piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 17:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15417936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoriesofMiltia/pseuds/MemoriesofMiltia
Summary: During a warm picnic in a flower garden, Hanzo and Zenyatta talk about the design and function of things and decide that the function of their relationship-to make each other happy-will never change.Originally published in the Marked by Redemption Zine.





	Function

There were many ways to spend a warm spring afternoon. On his own, Hanzo might have spent them training, reading, and drinking, unless he had some work to do or if some side-job offer came up. Just because he joined the reformed Overwatch didn’t mean that he gave up his job of being a mercenary and/or assassin. Both things were illegal, anyway. But, when he and Zenyatta finally decided to get together, Hanzo spent fewer and fewer lonely afternoons with his thoughts. As far as Zenyatta was concerned, there were few better ways to spend time with a lover on a lovely day that had a lifespan shorter than a mayfly than to have a picnic. 

Of course, they couldn’t always have one together, even when the weather was lovely, since both their jobs and the locations either prevented it or enticed them to do other things (when one was assigned a job in Osaka with their boyfriend, one went to the Kaiyukan Aquarium with said boyfriend when they were done with their work.). But one lovely, sunny day in May, when they were both hanging out in London after a job protecting an Omnic’s rights group, Zenyatta suggested packing a picnic and going out to relax in one of the many flower gardens the city had to offer (after the war, they had become particularly popular, since there were more than a few people who wanted a slice of peace, a reminder of the world before the Omnic Crisis had altered it forever.).

“Zenyatta, you can’t eat. Are you sure you’d really enjoy simply going out and looking at flowers?” Hanzo asked, though his tone and the look on his face suggested that he wasn’t completely against the idea.

“You forget that there are people there to watch too.” Zenyatta countered. “Besides, there are few more likely places to find peace than a flower garden where everyone is enjoying themselves and admiring nature.”

“..Alright.” Hanzo replied, his voice quiet. “But let me make the food.” For once, Zenyatta didn’t push Hanzo on the matter. Instead, he quietly listened to music and read in the living room of the apartment they were staying at while Hanzo tried to put together a large spread as quickly as he could. Eventually, after about an hour or so, Hanzo came out of the kitchen carrying a large, violet bag and a blue blanket. “Thank you for waiting. Are you ready to go?”

“Of course.” Zenyatta replied, putting down his book, taking the earbuds out of his metal skull, and hovering up. While their trip to the closest flower garden was rather quiet (a long walk down to the bus stop, waiting until they got to the sixth stop, and then the long walk to the place), it was filled with a comfortable, cozy silence instead of an oppressive, awkward one, and while Hanzo wasn’t the kind of person to initiate public displays of affection, when Zenyatta took his hand as they left the apartment, he didn’t protest or complain. Instead, he merely gave Zenyatta’s hand a gentle squeeze as he tightened his grip, as if he didn’t want the heavy crowds to separate them, and while it would have been difficult to tell if you didn’t know him, the stern, tense, tight expression on his face relaxed, as if he’d just been reassured of something. Thankfully, no one bothered Zenyatta either, since most people were too weirded out by the fact that he was hovering instead of walking like a normal person to do anything, and Hanzo’s filthy looks to anyone who was even thinking about harassing his beloved kept the rest in check.

As they wandered through the flower garden, hand in hand, Zenyatta watched the various groups of people admiring all the tulips and roses (couples, large families, grandparents who’d thought it’d be fun to take their kids to a relaxing monument of the past), and while the expression on his face did not-could not-change, the humming of his orbs sounded more tranquil, more peaceful than usual, which was why Hanzo did his best not to reminisce upon his family as he looked for a good place amongst all the colorful flowers and bushes to sit and admire them, but, when he saw a group of children playing with kites in part of the nearby field up ahead, he couldn’t help but sigh to himself.

“I remember when Genji and I used to play with kites. He’d often break his running about like an ecstatic chicken, and it’d be up to me to act like the perfect Shimada, even though I would have liked to run about with him. Kites are meant to be broken.”

“I wouldn’t say I agree with that.” Zenyatta hummed as he followed Hanzo behind a hedge-where they could see everything, and yet, avoid being seen by most-and willingly let go of his hand so that Hanzo could unroll and spread out the blanket and set the food out, and so that he could sit upon the blanket first. “Kites are designed to be toys. What the person decides to do with them instead is up to them. And even if they are designed to be one certain thing, they can easily break out of that function, if a person chooses to help them.”

“I suppose.” Hanzo grumbled as he settled into Zenyatta’s lap, not quite in the mood for philosophical conversations, especially since more people than he cared to could see them cuddling up like this. Feeling that his lover wasn’t fully examining or engaging with his point, Zenyatta pulled out a few nearby tulips and started making a flower crown faster than one might suppose he might, speaking as he worked.

“For example, all of these gorgeous plants were brought and planted here so that they might elicit some positive emotional response in other people. Yet, these plants have no other design than to live, like the rest of us, and their design and function can be broken and changed quite easily, like so.” And with that, Zenyatta plopped the bright red flower crown on top of Hanzo’s head like it was perfectly natural for it to be there and wrapped his arms around him, resting his chilly head upon his lover’s shoulder like a mischievous, happy cat who knows it’s caused some trouble, but also knows that its owner loves it far too much to really punish it. Hanzo, as he felt Zenyatta fling the flower crown upon him and reached up to feel the soft petals himself, couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he reached into his pocket, pulled out a black marker, and, faster than one could say the dragon was sated, drew a heart with wings upon Zenyatta’s forehead before putting it away again.

“And yet, while the design of your skin may be changed, your function, Zenyatta, never will. You always will make me happy.”

“Have you not considered that that may be your function as well, Hanzo? That you will always make me happy?” For the moment, Hanzo chose not to respond. Instead of focusing on Zenyatta’s non-rhetorical question or the burning blush on his cheeks, he instead focused on diving into his lunch.


End file.
